A/N: Okay, I actually have a soundtrack for this chapter. I heard a lot of these songs while I wrote it, and to me they fit the chapter. Now I can hear them just by reading through it. Anyhoodles, if you are interested, here are the songs: Poets of the Fall-Where Do We Draw the Line, Sia-Breathe Me and, Keane-Atlantic . Okay, now, let's get down to business. Read, enjoy and maybe leave a little review?

Chapter Thirty-six: Wings and Lightning Bolts

Ana blinked with heavy eyelids and found herself blinded by the bright lights in the room. She squinted, and soon the room drifted into focus. She was staring up into the roof of a plain white room. The only sounds she heard where the faint beeping of machines, and she frowned as she tried to remember where she was. Everything seemed to be a blur, and she couldn't focus her mind without a headache building, pressing against her forehead.

She groaned and closed her eyes. Her head wasn't the only part of her that was aching, she felt a dull ache in her abdomen, and a equal ache in her side, right below her ribs. She knew that she should be able to remember what had happened, but it felt like her head was filled with cotton, making it virtually impossible to think straight. She had no idea what day it was, what had happened lately, or even where she was. She reckoned it was the mansion, it was the last place she could remember being in at least. And then, by taking the plain white room and buzzing into account, it had to be the medilab.

It seemed vaguely familiar, waking up in a room like this. She remembered doing the exact same thing not long ago, when she came home from being kidnapped by Magneto. She'd woken up in the same room then, to find Warren—

Ana's eyes burst open instantly.

It came back to her now. The last weeks, Shadow, dying. Because she'd been sure she'd died, the pain from Shadow's stabs had been so intense. But she seemed to be alive still, or at least she thought so.

She tried to get up so she could look around, but the moment she moved a sharp pain stabbed through her abdomen, piercing through the haze of what had to be painkillers that were still clouding her mind. It was only a faint echo of the pain from when she had actually been stabbed, but it was bad enough to make her drop back down on the mattress and not try and sit up again.

Tentatively she lifted a hand and noticed that an IV was connected to it, a clear liquid running from a plastic bag hung on an IV stand next to the bed and into her veins. She contemplated doing like they always seemed to be doing in the movies and pull it out, but decided that it was probably there for a reason, and someone would remove it when it needed removing. Instead she pulled her sheets down to her waist, like she had been intending to when first lifting the hand. When she craned her neck and stared down at herself she saw that she was wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and pants, both pale blue. Not your standardised hospital outfit with the backless hospital gown, but then again, this wasn't a regular hospital. The small matching X-Logo on the clothes told her that she indeed was in the medilab.

Slowly she pulled up the shirt and soon a bandage that covered a large part of her abdomen was revealed. Above it and to the side was a matching bandage. She knew she probably shouldn't, but she just had to, and started to peel away the edge of the bandage covering her abdomen and then pulled it away so she could see what was underneath it. Her skin was slightly bruised, and in the middle of the bruise was a set of stitches. She counted them to herself, her voice a bit hoarse as she spoke out loud into the empty room.

"One, two, three…nine. Huh, not too bad." She let one finger trace the edge of the wound and knew she'd eventually have a new scar here and under the other bandage, scars that matched those she already had. She should change her name from Lightning to Scar Girl. It would fit so much better, she thought sarcastically.

She flinched slightly as her fingers pressed too hard on the wound, and she let both her hand and her head drop limply to the mattress. Her wounds and scars didn't matter now. She'd truly lost the one thing that had ever mattered to her. Warren was dead, and she was all alone in the world. She wished the knife had killed her; it would have made this so much easier. Now that she seemed to remember everything that had happened earlier the pain of it came crashing down on her, crushing her. She found it hard to breath; it was almost like someone was standing on her chest, but she knew it was just in her mind, a by-product of the pain. But that didn't make it any less painful.

She felt empty and broken, like if someone had put their hand through her chest, ripped her heart out and stomped on it. There was just a hole there now, a big aching hole that there was no way she could ever heal.

She had lost him once before, and that had been hard, but it hadn't lasted long until what she thought to be him had come back to her. But now he was truly gone, and she knew it. He wouldn't come back to her. It hurt so badly, and the fact that it was the second time made it even worse. Shadow had done the most wickedly evil act by giving her hope and then snatching it away again.

But it wasn't just that, it was the fact that Shadow had befouled Warren's memory by taking his place. He had tinted the good memories with the bad ones of this time of the charade. His version of Warren had been no where near the true version, but he had looked so much alike, and she had truly believed it was Warren. All the memories fluttered together, and she had to concentrate to ignore those that weren't Warren, but Shadow. She was not going to let him torment her from the grave, she would remember the good and kind Warren, the one who was real, the one who had loved her.

Her bottom lip started to tremble, and she felt the first sting of tears to her eyes, but bit it all back when she heard the sudden sounds of footsteps outside the room. She didn't want anyone else to see her pain; it was all hers, just like Warren had once been hers. As of now this pain was everything she had left of him.

Soon she heard someone opening the door, and she craned her neck so she could see who it was. She was not overly surprised to see Storm standing in the doorway, a worried look on her face.

"Ana, I am so terribly sorry," she said, and Ana could see the headmistress' eyes shine with the hint of tears.

"Thank you," Ana whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Storm hesitated for a moment, and then walked into the room and to Ana. She reached out and placed her hand gently on top of Ana's.

"I wish there was something we could do, something I could do."

Ana didn't answer, she couldn't. Her throat was thick, and she feared she would start sobbing like crazy if she tried to say anything else.

"Do your wounds hurt?"

Ana shook her head. The ache from them wasn't worth mentioning, it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart.

Storm sighed and pulled a chair over to the bed, settling down in it. She took Ana's hand in hers. "I thought you might like to know what has happened. You've been gone for days. Hank had to put you in a state of coma, allowing your body to heal. The wounds were…bad, almost lethal. It's just luck that you are still alive."

Ana wanted to snort, but she didn't manage, there came no sound. She didn't want to be alive, this wasn't luck, this was torture.

"The man who named himself Shadow is dead. We contacted Magneto and through him we got hold of his mother. His body has been sent to her to be buried."

Ana would have thought that she would feel anger, knowing that Shadow got a decent burial, but somehow she wasn't. Maybe it was the mention of his mother. The fact that he had a family, someone who cared about him changed it. Or maybe she just didn't care at all.

"And Magneto told us what we didn't know. He…told us what happened to Warren."

Ana's eyes snapped from the point on the roof they had been locked to as Storm talked, meeting Storm's. Just the name Warren sent a spike of pain through her chest.

"Warren has been buried, like he deserved. Magneto contacted his father, who arranged everything. Apparently he was broken up with grief with the death of his son. I am not sure why no one knew of the burial, but I think there is a chance Magneto used a telepath to make sure the burial was kept in silence, only for the family."

Ana's eyes drifted back to the roof. Somehow the knowledge of Warren being buried made it all…even more real. There was truly no way he was coming back. He was in a box somewhere deep under the ground, lost forever, slowly turning to dust.

A small sound came deep from Ana's throat, a pent up sob escaping. Her eyes were growing blurry with a sheet of tears, and she didn't think she would be able to keep them back any longer. She wished Storm would just leave so she could collapse the way she wanted to. To just cry until there weren't a single tear left in her body.

"But now you need your rest. I know this is hard, but we are all here for you. Sleep now, heal your wounds. I will be back later."

Ana nodded her head slightly. She heard Storm push back her chair, but before she walked away she seemed to have some more on her mind.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted these, but we found them when we brought you here." Storm took Ana's hand and put something on her palm. "Sleep now."

Ana heard Storm's footsteps leave the room, and as soon as the door closed she peered down at her hand, seeing what Storm had given her. On her palm lay two matching necklaces, one with a pair of wings, one with a bolt of lightning. She had bought them so Warren and she would have a token of their love, something to remember each other by when they weren't together, but now he would never get it. She let her thumb slide over the surface of the pair of wings, the necklace she had intended to keep for herself. The silver wings were nothing like how his wings had been. They weren't smooth and warm and alive. They were just cool metal.

She wished she could run her hands over his wings one more time, embrace him one more time, tell him how much she loved him. He had meant so much to her, and now he was lost forever. Truly lost.

She didn't know what she should do now, she couldn't imagine herself going back to her life like it had been before. Without him it just didn't have meaning anymore. Why should she bother with anything, it didn't matter now. She just wanted to close her eyes and sleep, sleep until death's cold hands grasped her and pulled her away from this life to a place with Warren. Maybe she would meet him in the afterlife, maybe they could be together there, forever in each other's arms.

She lifted her gaze from the necklaces and stared out into the room. A sudden chill crept to her, making goosebumps spread on her arms. It would be so easy. People took their own lives everyday. All she needed were an overdose of pills, and that wouldn't be too hard in the medilab would it? Or she could sneak out and find her way to the roof. A leap off the edge there and she would plunge to the ground, stopping this miserable life. Or she could find rope, or a knife or… So many possibilities, all equally lethal.

She sank back down on her pillow and closed her hands around the two necklaces. Her hands fisted, and the point of the lightning bolt dug into the soft flesh of her palm, but she didn't care. The tiny pain didn't matter, it was nothing to the pain inside. The aching nothingness where her heart had once been, the nothingness that only Warren could have filled. She would never be whole again; she would always be half of what she had been with him. No matter how many years trickled by she knew it wouldn't erase the pain. Maybe, given enough time, it would dull a little, but it would never vanish. It would always be there, reminding her of what she had lost, what had been taken away from her. She would never have peace, never be happy.

But did that mean she should just give up? Was that what Warren would have wanted? He had always been so strong, refusing to take the cure, standing up to his father, saving her. He wouldn't have given up no matter what.

She sighed and lifted her fisted hand to her forehead. One of the silver chains wasn't closed in her fist, and now it pooled against her closed eyelid. Inside she knew the answer, she knew what he would want her to do. It was as if she could hear his voice, talking to her. He would have hated it if she took her life, not for giving up on life, but for not grasping the opportunity that she had, the opportunity to live on and make something of her life. If he had been here she knew he would tell her to live on and forget about him.

She knew that there was nothing that could ever make her forget him, to make her move on, but she could do one thing. She could choose life. She could take the opportunity that he had not gotten and use it to the fullest. She could stay with the X-Men and help them and live. Then maybe, once, when death caught up with her like it did for everyone, she would fall asleep and wake in his arms. Then they could be together for all eternity, and he would be so proud of her for not giving up. He would see how strong she could be, and he would love her for it.

Ana moved her fist from her forehead and opened her eyes. She knew what she had to do. With a small groan of pain she pushed herself off the mattress to a sitting position. Her wounds throbbed painfully, but she ignored it. No physical pain could ever match the pain of her loss, so she ignored it as best she could.

With trembling hands she opened her fist and grabbed the chain with the wings. She fastened it around her neck and lifted the edge of the t-shirt so the necklace slid inside it, hidden from view. It was as close to her heart as it could be, the metal warm against her skin, heated by her hands already. She would wear the necklace for the rest of her life, a reminder of what she had once had, what had been lost to her. The other necklace she would bring to him, to his grave.

She knew that Storm would know where his father had buried him, and she intended to go there as soon as she was well enough to get out of this bed.

She dropped back on the bed, closed her eyes and let a small smile tug on her lips. She would live for him, cherish his memory and dream of the day she would meet him again.

"I love you," she whispered into the room. Somewhere he would be able to hear her. She could imagine him sitting on a puffy cloud, his legs dangling off the edge as he peered down on her. She could see the smile on his lips as he whispered back to her. She never heard the words, but she saw his lips move, and she knew that he was waiting for her, waiting for the time she would join him. Once, in the future. But his love would not waver, no matter how many decades it would take, and she knew that her love for him would be just as strong.